


Ineffable

by Jellyfishdreams1



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is so good, Crowley uses they/them, Crowley's gender is ineffable, Cuddling & Snuggling, I'm So Soft For These Two, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, non-binary Crowley, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 03:01:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20185159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellyfishdreams1/pseuds/Jellyfishdreams1
Summary: Crowley enjoys playing with gender and presentation. Aziraphale indulges himself.Excerpt from the fic"Crowley sipped their coffee, feeling Aziraphale’s eyes on them. In previous situations, the demon would have hissed and spat all kinds of curses at the angel, but this was not then. Now, they understood that the looks were not malicious—a quality too many angels had. No, Aziraphale’s looks were simply looks. Taking in the scene, like he does when about to ravish a new pastry or dessert. It made Crowley feel safe."





	Ineffable

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Good Omens has allowed me to come to terms with my own gender, and Crowley is kind of a representation of this? In a way? Anyhoo I am very soft for these two, and I love the thought of non-sexual intimacy. So here we are. Enjoy!

God created Her children with a loving hand. That was all She wanted, was to instill love into all her creatures. This is why the Great War was so terrible—the demons lost Her love. The demons became an empty shell, unable to be bathed in Her light.

This is also why God cares not about very human things such as gender or the likes. She has no technical gender, and neither do her first round of children. Their gender is, well, ineffable.

. . .

Crowley slowly floated into alertness, first registering the softness of the bedsheets around him. The plush of the pillow under his head. The love that radiated throughout the room. Of course, a demon should not feel love, but Crowley prided himself on being a bang-up demon. The next thing he could tell was the other side of the bed was _terribly_ empty. His angel was up and about in the bookshop, leaving the demon to lay alone. This simply would not do.

Pushing the covers off, Crowley stood, popping his back in the process. He scratched his stomach as he walked over to the restroom attached to the bedroom. He had no real need to go in, but over the past millennia he had allowed himself a few treats, and one of those was a morning routine. Specifically, in today’s case, was deciding how he wanted to present.

Staring in the mirror, Crowley looked carefully at his face. The pinch of his nose, the high cheekbones, and the piercing yellow serpentine eyes. Yes, those would never change. They were mainstays of Crowley, the last being a gift from Her. A reminder that he crawled away from heaven.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Crowley stared closer. He simply could not decide how he wanted to be for the day. The allure of curves did not suit him for the day, but neither did the smooth plane. Today was a “they” day, the demon decided. Nothing to be changed, really, except to remove their Effort. Not a tricky act for the occult being, they simply willed that nothing be there. Ah, that was much better. And maybe a little softness around the hips. Staring in the mirror, they smiled. A “they” day indeed.

Picking up their toothbrush—adorned with a little devil’s tail—Crowley continued their routine, cleaning their teeth. It was nothing short of a miracle that humans picked up basic hygiene. It was a terrible time when people were running around saying that disease was caused by Hell. It was nothing that Hell nor Heaven did. Pestilence had their fun in those days, spreading around anything they could. Crowley rinsed their mouth, grimacing at the memories of the children they could not heal.

After a quick face wash, Crowley deemed themselves somewhat ready to face their angel. A wardrobe change was in order, though. Stepping back into the cozy bedroom, Crowley went to the closet. Looking at their side of pitch black clothing, the demon settled upon a floor-length skirt and an older tee shirt. Simple yet dramatic, and enough to comfort their “they” day.

Changed and ready, Crowley sauntered downstairs to the small kitchen, where Aziraphale was preparing a cup of tea. Silently gliding across the floor, Crowley came up behind him, wrapping their arms around the angel and nuzzling his neck. Aziraphale jumped in shock.

“C-Crowley!” he exclaimed, setting the tea bag on a saucer. “My dear, good morning to you as well, but I must admit you surprised me.” Aziraphale placed a hand atop Crowley’s, gathering himself.

“Mornin’ angel,” the demon replied. “Coffee?” they mumbled, still not completely awake. Aziraphale’s coffee was unmatched, and it was a perfect day when they could convince him to make a cup.

Aziraphale sighed, placated and no longer in surprise. He began the motions—as well as he could with a demon clinging on—for a cup of coffee, and took the time to pay attention to how Crowley felt behind him. Ah, a “they” day. Aziraphale filed this away as he began steeping his tea, and finished the cup of coffee.

“Here you are, my dear,” Aziraphale said, Crowley already grabbing the cup with a mumbled “thank.” A demon without coffee is like, well, Hell.

The two sipping their respective drinks, Aziraphale continued to take in Crowley’s figure. Truly, the angel had to admit the Crowley had outdone themselves as always. The floor length skirt complimented the small amount of curves they had afforded themselves, as well as giving the illusion of there not really being shape at all. Combined with the simple yet classy tee shirt, black as well, Crowley truly radiated a sense of fluidity.

Crowley sipped their coffee, feeling Aziraphale’s eyes on them. In previous situations, the demon would have hissed and spat all kinds of curses at the angel, but this was not then. Now, they understood that the looks were not malicious—a quality too many angels had. No, Aziraphale’s looks were simply looks. Taking in the scene, like he does when about to ravish a new pastry or dessert. It made Crowley feel safe.

“My dear, if I may…” the angel started. Aziraphale knew that gender was not a touchy subject for the demon, but he always liked to get their input.

Crowley laughed into their cup. Go- Sat- _Someone_, the angel was making them soft. “You always may, angel, but go on.”

Aziraphale smiled his soft smile, and continued. “It is a they day, I suppose?” The nod from Crowley was all that was needed between the two. Years spent together allowed them to be able to read each other quite well. It was a silent blessing that the two cherished above all else. To be comfortable with the only other person that understood what was going on.

Azriaphale set his cup on the counter, and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s cheek, smiling as the demon flushed. “You look stunning, as always, my dear.” Crowley simply responded with “Ngk” before finishing their cup of coffee.

The two prepared for the day—Aziraphale opening the bookshop and Crowley taking their place on the couch, pulling out their phone. May as well see what little drama they could start. The front bell chimed every now and then, announcing customers entering and leaving. The musty smell of the shop, as well as the dust, convinced potential buyers that these books were not in the best condition, and ensured that no prized copies would be removed from the angelic collection.

As Aziraphale tutted through the shelves and conversed with customers, he could not help but continue to steal glances at his demon lounging on the couch. Crowley simply looked stunning, and Azriaphale, ever the glutton, simply wanted them all to himself. It was a time honored tradition since the Apoca-Wasn’t that when Crowley played with their appearance, Aziraphale found himself desiring to relearn their physical form. It was one that the demon found themselves all too happy to participate in, even if it was met with some initial hesitation.

After the customers stopped trickling in, Aziraphale changed the sign to “closed” and sat beside his beloved demon, wrapping an arm around them. The poor thing had fallen asleep with their phone on their face, and he gently moved it so there would be no smudging. Then, without waking them, Aziraphale moved Crowley so they were lying in his lap. Few things could compare to the feeling of having his lover there, a comfortable heat that never faded. Crowley shifted in their sleep, cuddling closer, and Aziraphale thanked someone that they could spend time like this.

Crowley woke again, slowly, to the sound of pages turning. They hadn’t realized they fell asleep, but the warmth from Aziraphale kept them from feeling upset about it. A nap in an angel’s lap? It was enough for Crowley to not hate God for leaving them.

Said angel realized his love was awake, and placed a hand in their hair—it was growing out, and the curls were light as air. He twirled the curls around his finger, and Crowley melted even further into his lap. The two stayed like that for some time, until Aziraphale’s stomach rumbled.

“Well,” Azriaphale said. “I do believe it is time for some dinner. May I tempt you to a spot at the Ritz?” Crowley stretched, their hair falling in front of their face.

“Y’know, angel. Tempting is my job,” they teased, sitting up and moving the hair back. “But consider your temptation accomplished.”

. . .

Dining at the Ritz, the couple sat at their regular spot, and Crowley twirled their wine glass thoughtfully. Aziraphale had just finished his plate, and was thoroughly satisfied. He glanced up at the demon as he cleaned his face, and was taken aback at what scene lay before him—surrounded by the gentle light of the restaurant, Crowley looked simply divine. Their hair pinned back, sunglasses reflecting the light, and figure absolutely stunning. The angel found himself starving, but for a completely different meal.

Sliding his hand to the other, Aziraphale gently took Crowley’s hand to his. “Crowley, my love, I, ah…” he had lost steam before he even began. Crowley smirked, and ran a thumb along the other’s.

“You can do it, angel. Use your words,” they prodded. They knew what Aziraphale would say, but it filled them with some sort of emotion to hear him say it. Had this been before, they would never have dared called it love. But it most certainly was.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, and began again. “Well, you see, I was simply wondering… if when we return home you would be interested in, ah…” He fell into silence. The server returned with the check, and looked between the two, realizing the intimate moment. Stepping back, he made eye contact with the angel and winked, walking away.

“Right. When we return home may I indulge myself a bit?” He finally managed. Crowley grinned, and pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s hand.

“Thought you would never ask, dear.”

After paying a graciously tipping, the two walked hand in hand to the Bentley. Sliding in, the radio began playing one of Beethoven’s, with vocals by Freddie Mercury. The drive was brimming with something. Not lust, as Aziraphale did not desire that from Crowley tonight. No, tonight was about mapping out the planes on which the angel loved his demon, and memorizing today’s mountains and valleys.

Arriving in no time, Aziraohale led Crowley inside the bookshop and upstairs. Crowley sat on the bed, removing their shoes and then sat with legs tucked under each other. They stared as Aziraphale shrugged off his jacket and waistcoat, dutifully hanging them up. He walked over to Crowley, and placed a hand upon their sunglasses. “May I?”

This was Crowley’s chance to decline. It was an agreed answer—if Crowley says no to the sunglasses, nothing goes any further. The two simply curl up and rest. It allowed them the control they so desperately needed in this situation. It was a token of trust, one that made the demon’s chest clench tight.

“Yes.”

The sunglasses off and safely tucked away, Aziraphale ran a hand along Crowley’s jaw, reveling in the soft stubble they had kept on today. Crowley followed the touch like it was the sweetest wine, desperate for more. Aziraphale leaned down and gently kissed them, and the two sat like that for a minute, just a soft kiss. No heat, only Azniraphale indulging in the softness of his demon’s lips.

Crowley moved themselves back, giving Aziraphale the chance to get on the bed. The angel followed them, and made slow work of removing their shirt. A flat plane met him, and he gently pressed kisses along Crowley’s chest, causing small gasps to escape from the demon’s lips. The way Aziraphale kissed them was like being picked apart and put back together. It was solidifying, loving, and terribly soft. They found themselves craving more.

Aziraphale poured love into each and every kiss, his hands gently mapping Crowley’s stomach and leaving feather-light touches. He was in awe of the being before him, and worshipped them. They were on their own side, and Aziraphale treated Crowley as his own personal god.

The skirt came off next, and oh, those hips! Aziraphale dove in with an enthusiasm that rivaled that of when he had a delectable plate of crepes in front of him. Crowley continued to make little noises, absolutely wrapped up in their own version of heaven.

Aziraphale gently kissed along Crowley’s form, and Crowley had a realization then. They never did need God after all. She had left them, yes, but they had all the love right here. All the love they could ever need or want was holding them and caressing them with such reverence. Tears threatened to spill, and Crowley melted under the angel’s ministrations. This. This was enough, more than enough. It was perfection.

After having mapped out all of the demon’s body, Aziraphale once again returned to Crowley’s face to pepper kisses all along their cheeks, wiping away the wetness. The tears were another normality, and he payed them no mind except to be even more tender than before.

With one last kiss, the two broke apart, Crowley practically purring. They were loved. Aziraphale miracled on his pyjamas, and Crowley simply stayed with what they had, not wanting to spoil the moment. They pulled the covers over, and moved closer to the angel.

“’Zira… thank you,” Crowley said, quietly, almost as a confession. The reminder of love did wonders for piecing back parts they never knew were broken apart.

Aziraphale joined his partner under the covers, and kept Crowley close, brushing through their hair. “My dear, I should be saying that. For you to allow me to be so close and have my fill… Well. I must say there is no treat finer.”

Crowley flushed bright at that, hiding their face in Aziraphale’s chest. Trust the angel to say something sappy. Not to be out done, Crowley stated, “It was simply a temptation.”

Aziraphale grinned, and said “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”

That earned a light slap from the demon. “Really? We’re cuddling and being—being mushy and you quote _Oscar_?” Aziraphale simply kissed Crowley’s head.

“He was right, my dear. I believe he also said ‘The curve of your lips rewrite history.’”

Crowley sighed, closing their eyes. “Yeah yeah, you old sap.” Then, much quitter, “I love you.”

Aziraphale turned the lights out, and kept his demon close. “And I love you.”

. . .

Their love, as well, is ineffable.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again!! I hope you enjoyed this fic!!!


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